Harry Potter and the Swordmage
by Christian Cadet
Summary: What if rather a tri-wizard tournament it was a quad-wizard tournament? But who is this new champion from this new school? Will Harry confess his feeling for Hermione? No Dumbledore/Weasley-bashing! Editing in progress. Nothing owned by me save for plot and any OC's.
1. Feelings and a Warning

Harry Potter sat up vertically on his bed, breathless. The nightmare still clung onto him like a tumor. The cold, sinister voice plotting. Wormtail groveling to the figure in the armchair. The man he did not know vowing to do his bidding. It all ended when the voice cast a curse that Harry did not know and a flash of green.

_Why does that color feel familiar in an almost haunting way? _Harry thought to himself. He was in the middle of his musings when a small tapping on his window started up. He whipped his head to the window. There was Ron smiling at Harry and motioning for him to be quiet. Ron was leaning out the backseat of the Weasley's flying car. Arthur was there as well, hands on the wheel. The rest is history.

The good part about this time, was that it was known that Harry was being rescued, so there was no livid Molly Weasley waiting to lecture them. She was in the kitchen, cooking up something wonderful from the way the Weasley men seemed to breathe in the smell. In the Weasley house, a small feast was waiting for the family and Harry. All of them sat down eagerly and began digging into their food. Harry looked around and found no sign of his female best friend.

"Where's Hermione?" he asked, voicing his thoughts. He searched for any sign of the bushy-haired beauty. Yes, Harry thought she was beautiful. He realized this last year and had hoped to try to tell her how he felt this year. When she had wrapped her arms around him on Buckbeak, a tingle ran down his back. It was then that he realized that he was in love with her.

A shrug from Ron was all he got in response. After the dinner, he suddenly felt extremely tired. Climbing the staircase up to his shared room with Ron, he arrived in time to see a cloaked figure standing in his room. All thoughts of sleep escaped his mind as he whipped out his wand. The dark cloaked figure held up his hands, showing that he was unarmed. Moving his arm, the figure held a finger to his lips, signaling silence. Harry didn't know why, but he felt as if he could trust this mystery visitor. A piece of paper was whipped out by the person and placed on Harry's bed. Almost as soon as Harry had seen him, he was gone, replaced by a blue, flaming image of an eagle. This apparition flew out the open window into the night.

Rushing over, the Boy-Who-Lived watched as the blue trail of fire followed the visitor's flight path. Soon, the blue eagle's fire vanished into the pitch black of the night. Looking back to his bed, he saw the note. Walking cautiously to it, he gingerly picked it up. Opening it quietly, he read a strange and cryptic message:

_A war between a den of lions and a lair of serpents approaches_

_The fate of a nation, on it hinges_

_One led by a gray mane,_

_The other a monster who does not belong on the living plane_

_A boy who has lived because of the death of his mother_

_Will rise and follow a path he chooses and no other._

Shuddering, Harry dropped the note. Even he didn't need research to know that the message talked about him. He watched as the fallen note vanished into mist and dissipated. This magic was something he was sure even Dumbledore didn't know. There was something about the mysterious figure that felt familiar. Almost as if...

* * *

_Harry was running through a graveyard. He came to an open area where a terrifying sight greeted him. There in the center stood a figure shrouded in black robes. He had two snake-like slits for a nose and evil, red eyes. Only one word came to mind to describe this monster. Voldemort. But what really scared Harry was the person kneeling down at the end of his wand. _

_The woman had soft flowing locks of brown hair that once as bushy as a lion's mane. Hermione stared defiantly at Voldemort, not showing an inkling of fear. _

_"You mudbloods will pollute our world no longer," Voldemort said with finality. _

_"NO!" Harry screamed as Hermione was hit by that same hauntingly familiar green light from Voldemort's wand. Running forward, Harry caught Hermione in his arms and watched as the life faded from her eyes. _Harry...

_"Hermione, please, come back," Harry begged. _Harry...

_"Hermione, please. I love you!" Harry continued begging, hoping for a miracle. _Harry, wake up...

"Harry, wake up!" a voice exclaimed, making Harry jolt upright from his nightmare. Looking to the source, he saw some one he thought was dead in his dream. Hermione Granger was staring at him with concern, a candle held in her left hand. Quickly putting on his glasses, he looked at Hermione with much clearer vision. Her hair was in a ponytail that hung behind her neck. Her soft, brown eyes held so much warmth that he wanted to just stare at them forever.

"Are you alright?" she asked softly. He quickly snapped out of his reverie and answered somewhat truthfully.

"Yeah, just a bad dream," he said dismissively. She sat next to him and gave him a look saying _I don't buy it. _He tried to resist the urge to tell the whole truth but caved. He sighed. "A really bad dream. I'll feel better. I just need time to calm down," he admitted. He hoped she didn't ask what it was about, as he didn't think he could keep her role in it a secret under specified questioning.

"Alright, but you know you can talk to me if you change your mind?" she inquired, hoping that he wasn't shutting her out. She still hadn't told anyone save her parents, but Hermione had developed feelings beyond their current relationship that people linked to a brother and sister. It had started in first year, but she had brushed it off as sheer gratitude. In second year, however, it had been verified as a crush. Third year rolled around, and Hermione began to act on her feelings, albeit hesitantly in the beginning. Now, she had hoped for this year to be the year that things between her and Harry grew a little more romantic.

"Sure," Harry said, giving her a kind smile. She blushed softly and turned to wake up Ron, not nearly as gently or conversationally. After hearing that breakfast was ready, the two boys quickly changed, took their packs, and followed Hermione downstairs. There the Weasleys were all sitting at the dinner table, eating various breakfast goods. After the filling feast, the group left the house and began a long trek to a tree where a man was leaning against a tree.

After meeting the man, Amos Diggory, and his son, Cedric, the group continued to a hill where an old, worn boot awaited. Learning that it was a portkey and nearly being left behind, Harry quickly grabbed on to the boot and was whisked away. After traveling for a short time and being told to let go, Harry suddenly landed on the grass of a plain by the sea. He soon felt another added weight on top of him that knocked the wind out of him. Looking down, He was met with beautiful, brown eyes.

Both Harry and Hermione stared at each other for a long time, unaware of how close their faces were getting. Harry could feel his heart racing with anticipation of something he had only imagined about. Suddenly, a voice startled them out of their own private world. Both of them blushed furiously and separated hesitantly. Arthur, Amos, and Cedric came gently down from the sky, moving their legs as if walking only to be set gently down on the ground, causing those with a less graceful landing to feel jealous. Cedric offered a hand to both Harry and Hermione and hoisted them up.

After trekking up another hill, Arthur Weasley announced in a proud voice, "Well kids, welcome to the Quidditch World Cup!"

**A/N: Here's the newly revised chapter one. I'm confident that all of you will enjoy this. Leave a review and let me know what you think and feel free to suggest plots and other things you would like to see. I can't promise everyone what they want, but I will try to include the ideas that flow best with my plot line. Until next time,**

**CC**


	2. The Quidditch World Cup

**A/N: Here's the second chapter of Harry Potter and The Swordmage. Don't know how far I'll get, but what will happen here is Harry will once again run into the mysterious visitor. He will also have a couple moments with Hermione. I hope to at least get to just after the Quidditch World Cup, during the Death Eater attack. Without further ado, let's begin. (Man, do I wish HP was mine.)**

Harry, Hermione, and most of the younger members of the group stared in awe at the vast assortment of tents, stands, and various vendors of items. Their were some people zipping around on brooms, others were performing various skills to keep the crowd entertained. Some were juggling, others were breathing fire, and others still were selling the merchandise of the two competing teams: Ireland and Bulgaria. The group was divided in allegiance, with the twins and Ginny sporting the green and white of the Irish, and Harry and Ron going Bulgarian red. Hermione for her part was wearing green and white, but wasn't rooting for any team. She was, after all, less of a physical being.

The group, led by Arthur Weasley, arrived at a small tent that seemed to only be able to fit one person if he or she didn't mind having their feet sticking out the front. Arthur sighed happily and opened the flap, proclaiming, "Home sweet home." The twins entered first followed by Ron, Ginny, and then Hermione. Harry stared confusedly at the tent, wondering why the group wasn't fussing at each other to move. Following them in, he soon realized why. The tent's inside was much bigger that the outside, this caused Harry to smile brightly.

"I love magic," he whispered to himself. Hermione turned and smiled at the awestruck look on his face. It was times like these when she realized that Harry was still innocent to many of the workings of the Wizarding World. Which wasn't necessarily a bad thing. It just added to the wonder of a whole culture. Harry walked over to his bunk and slung his knapsack onto the bed. Hermione felt a nudge in her side. Looking over to see the youngest Weasley eying her conspiratorially and raising her eyebrows suggestively, Hermione brushed her off with a statement of, "Oh, hush up, Ginny."

Ginny could tell that Hermione had feelings for the green-eyed boy. The redhead, herself, had quickly gotten over her little hero worship of Harry Potter and instead, focused on finding the perfect match for him. Seeing as he and Hermione already seemed to be able to read each other's thoughts, Ginny decided to keep a close eye on them. The way they acted around each other seemed to only solidify her suspicions.

However, her musings were interrupted when her father announced that they would be heading over to their places. The group made it's way up to the top of the stands. Overall, the trip was pretty decent, not counting the little spat with the Malfoys. When the group arrived to their assigned seats, they were immediately buzzed by figures zooming just above their heads in green and white robes. The twins instantly began pointing out various players, as the team magically produced their mascot. Said mascot proceeded to do a jig but was rudely interrupted by another team bursting through its chest. A single player broke formation and performed a flair-ish trick, then fell back in line.

The twins explained to their little sister about Krum, the best seeker in the world. Hermione was leaning casually on the railing, arms crossed and serving as support. She rolled her eyes annoyingly. _If anything, _she thought, _he's one of the most famous. _Hermione watched how he played the rest of the match. In summary, he was good, but she felt that Harry was maybe a little better than him if they were on even ground. However, they weren't, so perhaps they'd never know who was the best.

Feeling a nudge in her side, she looked to her left to find Harry watching her quizzically. She could tell he was asking her if she was okay. Smiling softly at his concern, she nodded subtly. She leaned her head on Harry's shoulder, finding more warmth there than her scarf provided. The pair were unaware of the pair of eyes to Harry's left looking on, and their owner grinning mischievously. Ginny Weasley was plotting something that, if it worked, would benefit the two lovebirds.

* * *

**After the World Cup**

When the Weasley's and their guests returned to their tent, where the twins immediately launched into a celebration of Ireland's victory. Their liveliness was entertaining to most of the other residents, save for Ron, who tried to valiantly defend his favorite player. This only led to him being teased by Ginny, followed by the twins and Harry. During their antics, a resounding boom was heard. Fred, or was it George, remarked, "Sounds like the Irish have got their pride on."

However Arthur's commands to stop goofing around caused all humor to be lost and replaced with mild tension. This only escalated when he ordered everyone out of the tent. Something was wrong, very wrong. Everyone packed essentials and exited swiftly...to the chaos outside.

Outside of the group's tent, people ran amok. Screams of terror and wails of fear permeated the air. Upon their emergence from their tent, Arthur ordered everyone back to the portkey immediately. The group bolted for their portkey, seemingly going with the flow of the other witches and wizards. But as they ran, Harry glanced back behind him. Figures in metal skull-like masks marched around spewing spells from their wands, causing the terror that rang throughout. Harry turned to run, but found that his group had been whisked away by the tide of people fleeing the dark figures.

"Harry!" came Hermione's voice. He turned to follow the sound, but soon found himself shoved and jostled to the ground. He struggled to get up, but soon felt a blow to his head. He reeled back and soon felt the world fade to black.

**A/N: Annnnd…Scene. Man this took awhile to write. I hope you all like this. Apologies for not updating in awhile. I'll be trying harder to get something out, but I'll also be checking for quality along the way. **


	3. Who is the Visitor?

**A/N: Chapter 3 redone. I don't know where I'll get with this, but I hope to get to just before the arrival of the schools for Quad-Wizard Tournament. Also a side note, I'll be leaving out a plot element from Goblet of Fire because it just won't flow with my story. It'll be a minor one, but it will be noticed by many. I feel that everyone should know that I base my HP stories from the movies simply because I have those more vividly memorized in my mind and am able to describe movement and motions better from film than words. On with the story. **

**Sadly, I don't own the magic of Harry Potter. **

* * *

When Harry awoke, he found himself lying in the ruins of the campsite. Smoke billowed softly from the charred remains of valuables and possessions. Gritting his teeth, Harry sat up slowly. He held a hand to his head, feeling a bruise in the area. He shook his head to clear the buzzing feeling in his mind. His peripheral vision picked something up to his right. He turned his head in that direction and froze. There, in stoic silence, was the figure from that night at the Burrow, standing with arms at their side. Harry sprung up and whipped out his wand. The figure remained still as a statue, save for the gentle breeze blowing his clothing softly.

He wore a loose shirt with what appeared to be leather armor adorning his forearms and shoulders. He had leggings that dove into mid-calf high boots. A sash held the leggings at his waist. A scabbard was across his back, holding the hilt of a sword. A hood was drawn over his head, concealing his face under the shadow of it. The hood was attached to a coat that fell to just below his kneecaps, but in the dim lighting of the nearly moonless light, Harry could only make out faint colors and see only silhouettes of the figures body. The figure raised a finger to his lips, just like before, and gestured silence. A crash was heard in the tense silence that followed.

Instinct caused Harry to whip his head to the source of the sound. Another man was practically strutting about the ruins, unknowing of the audience he had. He came to a clearing and raised his wand. He belted out a spell unknown to Harry, and a spurt of light shot from his wand. It soared into the sky, and an explosion of light followed. A skull formed, and a serpent came from the mouth and began to tie itself into a knot. Harry's scar suddenly began to burn. He hissed in pain.

The figure in the clearing, having heard his sound, turned his head and began strutting toward Harry upon believing to see an observer. Harry looked to his silent visitor, only to just catch the flaming trail left behind by the fire-apparition of the eagle. Harry turned and began swiftly ducking and weaving his way through the rubble to confuse his pursuer. He turned and saw that the man had arrived at the area Harry once was and follow Harry's general path.

"Harry! Harry, where are you?" came Ron's voice. The menacing figure stopped his advance and paused, as if calculating whether to run or continue to path toward the target.

"Harry!" came Hermione's softer voice. The mystery person backed away, slowly at first, and then began to accelerate away from Harry, fading into the black of night. Harry stared, frightened, at the area where the symbol's conjurer vanished. He only had a split second to ponder it before he was snapped out of his reverie by Hermione and Ron finding him, and Hermione grasping his shoulder firmly. When Ron inquired about the luminescent, green symbol, Harry's scar once more began to burn in pain. A split second later, multiple pops where heard along many cries of 'Stupefy'.

Harry and his friends immediately ducked as red jets of light whizzed right over their heads. Arthur rushed in, loudly shouting, "Stop! STOP! That's my son!" The red-haired man rushed over to confirm the children were alright. Another man rushed forward and began babbling about who had conjured it and being discovered at a crime scene, causing Harry to inquire, "What crime!?"

Hermione leaned over and whispered in a frightened manner, "It's the Dark Mark, Harry. It's _his _mark!" Immediately the pieces came together as to why his scar burned at the sight of that symbol. The shadow, that had been after him since he was not even two, had more followers that did his bidding than Quirrel or Peter Pettigrew. This made the fear of it increase. It wasn't a man and a few small minions, but perhaps an order or group of evil wizards that Harry was facing. This shadow's name was...

"_Voldemort!"_

* * *

The train whistle blew sharply. Harry jumped at the sudden sound. He had been replaying the night of the attack in his mind, trying to find a clue to the mysterious visitor that had visited him twice so far. There was something about him that, despite the silent fear that he instilled deep within Harry, felt as if the person was merely doing a job that would ultimately benefit Harry. He subtly felt the slip of paper he had found in his pocket that night, having decided to read it when he was completely alone. A gentle hand on his shoulder brought him back to the present. Hermione was looking at him, concerned for her friend. **  
**

No one knew, but Hermione secretly fancied Harry, not for the Boy-Who-Lived as most did, but for the person she knew he was underneath. She had gotten to know him. From his selflessness in nearly everything he did, to his kind but fiercely passionate heart. She liked all those qualities in a person, and who wouldn't.

She raised a silent eyebrow questioningly, knowing that Harry was seriously thinking about something. Harry, in turn, shook his head. This told her that now was not the time to talk about it and that it was a serious matter that he was thinking about. Hermione nodded in return and went back to reading the Daily Prophet's article on the attack.

"This is horrible. How can the Ministry not know who conjured it? Is there _any _security?" she asked. Ron looked up from the licorice wand he was idly nibbling on.

"Loads, according to Dad. That's what worried them so much. This happened right under their noses," he explained. Hermione's peripheral vision picked up Harry scratching his forehead, where the scar was.

"It's hurting again, isn't it? Your scar." Hermione queried. Harry shook his head and said, "I'm fine."

Hermione sighed and leaned forward. Slowly, she told Harry firmly, "You know Sirius will want to hear about this. What you saw at the World Cup _and _the dream." She wanted to make sure that Harry divulged everything to some one he trusted. If not her, then surely his godfather. Harry nodded and got out a lap desk, ink, quill, and parchment. He penned a letter to his godfather.

_Hey Sirius,_

_I don't know if you get much current information where you are, but I think I need to tell you some things. First, I've lately been having dreams that involve Voldemort, Wormtail, and a third man. I think that they're planning something big. It may involve me, but I can't be sure. _

_Secondly, the attack at the World Cup. I was there. I'm fine first of all, but I did see a man summon the Dark Mark. I didn't see his face, but I'm fairly certain he is one of Voldemort's Death Eaters. _

_On a lighter note..._

At this point, Harry made sure to tuck his knees up to his face so the next contents could not be seen by anyone in the compartment.

_…I been feeling something when I'm around Hermione. I can only describe it as a hammering in my chest and a sudden urge to kiss her. It takes everything in me to not act on these impulses. I know I fancy her, but what do I do? I don't want to damage what we already have, but I also don't want to wish for what we could've had for the rest of my life. Can you help me?_

_-Harry_

Harry quickly sealed the letter and took Hedwig out of her cage. She nipped affectionately at his fingertip. He smiled softly at the gesture. Handing the note to her, he watched her take off into the night. He hoped Sirius could give at least some answers to his questions.

* * *

Little did anyone know, but miles away, an old castle was held deep within a grove of mountains. There, an ancient force was practiced, perfected, and held secret. It was too powerful for all but a select few that were chosen to hold it within themselves and expend it. This force was beautiful, ancient, and full of power older than magic itself. But if not passed on, the force would swell and cause damage the likes of which hasn't been seen in either Muggle or Wizarding history since the time of Merlin.

In a room that nestled a glowing, golden orb the size of a small mansion on a pedestal made of a shimmering liquid, a man sat, legs crossed, deep in meditation. So deep was he, that gravity repulsed him a few inches off the ground. His senses were heightened to the world around him. He heard the footsteps that to most were silent. He knew who was coming, a member who, despite being in a group of students his age, was perhaps the more powerful than even the man himself.

This member was humble and chose not to use his power unless necessary, thus earning him respect and friendship among his peers. He held secrets that only a select few mentors and students had knowledge of, and even then, there was a dark and mysterious gap in his life that no one could fill at all, save for the meditator himself. Many had tried to find out, only to withdraw at the last minute for fear that their friend would turn them away. He respected their privacy, so they should respect his.

The member entered, revealing a form to the footsteps. A black hood was removed from his head, revealing ice-blue eyes, a fair face, and hair that was brown as mud. His skin was a soft tan shade that could easily be mistaken for white. He was tall for his age, and had legs longer in proportion to his body than most. His mouth was smaller in size than most, but he could still pull a grin that showed his joy clearly. He had muscle but was more lean in build, so it showed yet was not ostentatiously pronounced. Even then, they were covered my the loose, long-sleeved shirt and chain mail on his chest and arms. Leggings covered his legs and disappeared into mid-calf high boots that had metal greaves running down the front.

His armor was light and didn't restrict his movement at all, indicating a preference for speed and maneuverability than protection and strength. The hood was sewn into a coat that bore no sleeves, but had a silver, armored collar that rose to just below his ear and followed the coat to a point at the middle of his chest. The coat was black with deep blue trim on the bottom and inner edge and fell to the top of his calves. A leather belt held a scabbard across his back, where a sword was tucked away, the blade held in the darkness of the leather sheath.

"Drago, I've returned from monitoring the Scion. He is in good well-being at present, and the messages are being left with in pieces as ordered," the newcomer reported, referring to the man's symbion. The meditator nodded. His eyes were closed, but he could hear the tenseness in the newcomer's voice.

"You don't have to be so formal, Avian. I can tell there is something you wish to be frank about," Drago spoke in his echoey voice, smiling softly at the almost man before him and his attempt to keep his thoughts to himself. He had also referred to the boy's symbion in return. Avian sighed and ran a hand through his hair, only to have it fall back into place.

"It's just…I want to tell him why I'm there, why I keep leaving him cryptic riddles, and that he doesn't have to fear me. And yet, I like feeling powerful and mysterious. It feels like a war within me. To be the silent pillar of strength, honor, and power, or to be the friend that holds nothing back and is a brother in all but blood. I feel like those close to me here still don't trust me enough, so why can't I open up to some one outside my world?" Avian rambled off his desire to have a close friend in the Scion, but also the feeling he got from being the silent figure that instilled fear yet also wonder. Drago sighed and lowered to Earth and withdrew from his deep mediation. He stood and began approaching Avian. His white robe grazing the floor as he walked.

"I know that you wish to follow your oath of silence in their presence, and also your desire to have another person your age who knows you're secret. However, I must ask you this: have you ever considered that maybe the reason those who are close to you here keep their distance is because you don't show them the gate to become closer to you?"

Avian stepped back. Drago could see the fear of being pressed to open up in the boy's eyes. Drago placed a gentle but firm hand on the young adult's shoulder. Avian's eyes closed, and his head bowed.

"No one but you could understand what happened to me. I can't risk anyone changing the way they act and treating me like I'm fragile and weak. I want to forget those times. I just want to be seen as normal," Avian sighed. Drago turned and began circling the glowing orb.

"Avian, no one is normal. We all are unique here. Our past is only a part of us. It helps shape who we are. I didn't become an Arch Fire because I was born that way. I had to go through trials and pains in the past to become the figure of wisdom and leadership in the present. My past shaped me. You can't keep you're past locked up and hidden where it can't reach you. Some one will grow so curious, that it will gnaw at them until they find out. Would you rather them finding it on their own and breaking you're trust, or you opening your final gate and building a trust that no lie will fracture?" Drago explained sagely, his voice echoing off the walls. He returned to where the young warrior still stood, arms crossed idly and protectively.

Drago stood next to him in patient silence. This silence stretched on as Drago gazed deeply into the vast, shimmering globe of golden light. In it, one could vaguely make out the shapes of animals moving about in outlines slightly brighter than the surrounding light. The young warrior slowly returned his arms to his side. He let out a slow, calm, resigned breath. Drago sensed that he felt defeated and looked slightly down at him.

"You do need to make your peace with it and open soon, because some have began asking me about you, but you also need to not rush to open up too soon. I'll stay them from finding out on their own as long as I can, but my advice would be to reveal your horrific tale to all your closest friends before the the winter is done. They are growing impatient," Drago said. He returned to meditating. "Get some sleep. Tomorrow, we go to their land for the tournament." Avian nodded and turned to exit out where he came. Before he left though, he turned back to the Arch Fire.

"Who should I tell first?" Avian asked softly. Drago smiled, knowing of the one that the young man wished to tell. In truth, she was the one he would've picked as well.

"Maybe, the cold loneliness of holding your past a secret would be greatly lessened by the one who makes you feel the warmest. Rain hears you scream at night from the nightmares and wants to ease your pain," Drago said. Avian blushed at the mention of the girl with whom he was the closest. He had been feeling a deepening of their relationship recently, but didn't know where it was going.

"Only when I'm ready?" Avian asked. Drago affirmed.

"Only when you're ready." With that, Avian nodded and exited the chamber. Drago smiled. If things happened as he suspected they would, then water and fire would fill the world with warm steam that would thaw the coldest of hearts.

* * *

**And…scene. Woah! Did I write all that? I guess so. I think I may hit this word count every chapter if I keep typing like this. Now before I leave, I'll explain a couple things. **

**First, I know that I may or may not seem to focus on my OC's more than the actual characters. That is simply because I want to make them feel real and blend into the story. I've read a few stories where the OC's just show up into the picture and become best buds with the actual characters right away, and I don't want to do that. **

**Secondly, by now, most of you know what part I'm leaving out and think that it is more major than I do. I understand that, but this is my story. I'll write how I see fit, and you do as well and I'll not criticize. Not meaning to sound judging or stubborn, but just wanting to clear things up. **

**Third, I know that there are terms that I made up or used that don't make sense yet. Those will be cleared up in due time. It just adds to the mystery and intrigue of this fic. **

**Reviews, por flavor? (I meant to type that) They make my day.**

**CC**

**P.S-If Phoenix Burst reads this, then I just want to say that you inspired me to write this fic in the first place. Thanks.****  
**


	4. The Quad-Wizard Tournament

**A/N: This is Chapter 4 revised. In here, you'll get to at least the announcement of the Quad-wizard tournament as well as the introduction of the three other schools. Now, enough chit-chat. Onward!**

**I wish I owned HP. Then my Harmony ship would bombard the Romione and Hinny ships with massive broadsides from its canons. Sadly, this is not the case. All glory goes to J.K. Rowling.**

It was midday when the students of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry arrived to their home for the next few months. Harry, Hermione, and Ron mingled with their friends that they hadn't seen the whole summer. Slowly, their group got to number about seven people total, after Fred, George, Ginny, and Neville joined the mix. The group was meandering down an open hallway on the outside of the castle when Harry noticed what appeared to be a small raft that flew a banner about three to four times its length. His notice of it grabbed the attention of his friends, and they all crowded on the edge of the walkway in curiosity.

The little circular dingy bobbed on the surface of the lake for a few seconds more before a massive ship erupted from beneath it, revealing the raft to actually be a crow's nest. Sails unfurled as the ship coasted on the water's surface. It was a sight to behold, and many students crowded the openings of the passageway to get a glimpse of it. Fred lightly swatted George's arm and pointed to the noticeable figure of Hagrid. Said half-giant was looking up and directing in a carriage drawn by what appeared to be winged horses. He had turned to below a command, but as soon as he turned around, the horse drawn carriage swooped low, forcing him to cast himself on the ground.

"Well, there's something you don't see everyday," remarked George, causing the group to chuckle light-heartedly. Harry began to feel that maybe this year would be one where he wasn't threatened by some darker force. These thoughts, however, where soon wiped away when he put his hands in his pockets and felt the folded piece of paper. He had yet to read it privately and thus, had nearly forgotten about it. But whenever he felt it, his mind began to whirl with thoughts of what the note could contain. Feeling a light pressure on his shoulder, he turned to find the warm, honey-brown eyes of Hermione Granger gazing at him inquisitively.

Harry had barely opened his mouth before he shut it closed. He glanced around him and shook his head. Hermione, for her part, grew ever the more curious, but nodded her head in resignation. She trusted Harry to tell her what was bothering him, so she left her unanswered question for later. Linking their hands, she gave his a gentle squeeze, signaling her support.

Together, the group of seven made their way to the Great Hall for the Welcome Feast. Harry sat next to Hermione as all the students filed in for the new school year. The first years were sorted with no problems or peculiarities whatsoever. The one main oddity was Filch hustling up to Dumbledore in the middle of a special announcement, and them murmuring about something that no one could make out. After Filch had hurried out, Dumbledore resumed his speech.

"So, Hogwarts has been chosen to host a legendary event: the Quad-Wizard Tournament. Now, for those of you do not know, the Quad-Wizard Tournament brings together four schools for a series of magical contests. For each school, a single student is selected to compete. Now let be clear: If chosen, you _stand alone._ And trust me when I say, these contests are not for the faint-hearted," Dumbledore concluded with grave seriousness that seemed to give some people chills at what these contests could entail.

"But more on that later. For now please join me in welcoming the lovely ladies of the Beauxbaton's Academy of Magic and their Headmistress, Madam Maxime." The doors burst open, and a group of beautiful girls in blue strut in and made a show of their beauty with two drawn out sighs that made a lot of the young, hormonal boys in the room swoon. A flurry of butterflies erupted from them and flittered around the room as a woman who was taller than Hagrid gracefully walked into the room. All eyes were drawn to the size of the woman. Dumbledore himself greeted her with a kiss on the hand. After escorting her to her seat, he bustled up to the podium and gestured for silence.

"And now, our friends from the north. Please greet the proud sons of Durmstrang and their High Master, Igor Karakoff." All heads whipped around to the entrance where young men entered wielding staffs with choreographed speed and precision. They rushed forward in a fierce manner. Two people entered through the doors once more. One wore white, fur-lined clothing and sported a black beard. The apparent age of him in relation to the other students identified him as Igor Karakoff. The other was…_Victor Krum!_

Ron said as much by whispering in awe, "Blimey, it's him. Victor Krum!" The Bulgarian Quidditch player and the other man walked up to the staff's table. There a student blew on a torch and a fiery phoenix spread its wings. Dumbledore and Karakoff embraced, and Dumbledore ushered him to the staff's table. Turning around, Dumbledore made his way once more to the podium.

"And finally, our guests from the Americas. We'd like to welcome the Swordsmen University of Magic and their High Mentor, Eric Stryker." There was a tense silence for a moment as people swiveled their heads toward the entryway. Four jets of blue, green, orange, and red fire swirled into the Great Hall, each one speeding toward the staff table. In their wake, the remaining flames would converge into human-like forms before disappearing to reveal actual people. The four jets of fire slowed and spread out an equal distance apart. They too converged and disappeared to reveal four young people, each armed with a unique sword. Finally a white, fiery form of a dragon flew in. It landed and winked away to reveal a man in white robes and bearing a claymore.

The man and Dumbledore, equal in apparent age, shook hands warmly and made their way to their seats. The three guest schools went sat at three tables that Dumbledore provided. Dumbledore waved his hands and signaled for the feast to begin. Everyone began to dig into the delicious food. With the new schools sitting so closely to the current Hogwarts students, many began to gaze or stare at their guests. Most of the girls stared at the Bulgarian Quidditch player with hungry eyes. The general male population's attention was hooked on the Beauxbatons girls and their beauty.

Those that paid attention to neither of them were naturally left to gaze upon the third school. Harry was one of these people. The mysterious third school ate and talked as if they could care less about the world around them. Harry's eyes swept over the figures, taking in their mysterious clothing. Hoods of various colors and patterns were hanging from their neck. Many of them wore some form of battle armor. Every single one of them was unique, and had their own character.

He felt a nudge in his side and heard his name being called. He turned and found himself facing Hermione.

"What were you looking at?" she asked, genuinely curious. Harry had been zoned out for some time, and she had gotten concerned.

"Just wondering about that school over there," Harry said, jutting his thumb over his shoulder to the Swordsmen table. Hermione glanced that way and agreed with Harry. Every new school had attributes about them that gave them a personality. The thing with the Swordsmen University, however, was the fact that unlike the other schools, they weren't drawing eyes by what people were there. No, they drew eyes by that fact that not many had even heard of the Swordsmen University until this very night. The mystery cloaked them in an air of wonder.

Almost as if sensing he was being watched, one of the Swordsmen turned his head to face Harry and Hermione. They froze at both being caught staring and also the piercing gaze they found themselves under. Quickly turning away from icy, blue-eyed stare, they returned to eating their meal. They both flushed at being caught in that piercing stare. Ron himself was too busy gorging himself on the many choices of food in front of him, so he didn't notice his friends' flushed faces.

After their feast, Dumbledore walked up to a cloaked object. He waved his wand, and the cloak disappeared to reveal a stone goblet atop a pedestal. A blue flame appeared inside the goblet. He announced it as the Goblet of Fire, and explained the entry process. With a serious tone he concluded: "…as from this moment, The Quad-Wizard Tournament has begun."

**Well, it's about time I finish this chapter. I feel like this thing is getting tougher to write. Challenge accepted. Review what you thought. I'll try to get more chaps up soon. **

**CC**


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